


Iron Maiden

by PaperbackTrash



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Aedion - Freeform, Chaol - Freeform, Dorian - Freeform, Elide, Lysandra - Freeform, manon - Freeform, post empire of storms, rowan whitethorn - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperbackTrash/pseuds/PaperbackTrash
Summary: Aelin working on finding away from the iron coffin Maeve has imprisoned her in





	1. Chapter 1

Aelin’s head whirled as she came in and out of consciousness. The world around her was utter darkness. She couldn’t quite remember where she was but the smell of iron, the taste of it, assaulted her senses. The last thing that she could remember was the bitter sting of the whip licking the exposed skin on her back and Maeve’s shrill laughter. _Mate_. Maeve had confirmed that Rowan was her mate, that she had known what he was to her since the start. Tears began to roll down Aelin’s blood stained cheek. She could feel the shackles around her feet and hands and cursed herself for walking into so easily Maeve’s trap. She had been ready for this of course, expecting it even, she had already put everything into motion for her inevitable death. _Safe._ She thought, _they were all safe_. Pain coursed through her entire body as she shifted uncomfortable in her prison. _An iron box_ she realised. How clever the old fae bitch was. The blood was still freely trickling down her back, pooling around her. She wondered how deep the cuts were, knowing they may never heal surrounded by all of this iron. If she were foolish enough she would have hoped to die in this iron prison of hers, though she knew fully well that Maeve wouldn’t let her, not until she was done with her. _At least they’re all safe_ she told herself again and again realising it was only half true. They may have been safe from Maeve but there were darker, more powerful forces at work here. She thought of Rowan again, of the future they could have had together, the future that she had now willingly given to Aedion and Lysandra. They would be safe, they would succeed, Terrasen would live and thrive once again. Her thoughts slipped to Manon and the wyrd keys the witch now possessed, what it was now Dorian’s destiny to do. The tears continued rolling down her face as something tugged at the back of her mind, a distant memory. _Wyrd marks_ , she thought as her mind suddenly kicked into action. _Wyrd marks still work on iron_. Hope filled Aelin as she maneuvered  herself, wincing at every slight movement until she had access to the blood slicken back of the iron prison. Mustering every ounce of energy she still possessed she recalled the day in the library with Dorian, the day they had faced the grotesque beast his father had created, she recalled the wyrd marks that allowed her to open and lock the iron door. Dipping her finger in her blood, Aelin crudely traced the pattern of the opening wyrd mark on the chain of the shackles grasping her wrist, the chain fizzed and crumbled away. With a suppressed laugh she went to work on her feet, trying to find room in this small iron hell. Once her feet were free she began on the door of the casket, it too opened without a problem. Pushing the lid slightly she realised the damned fools had left her in an empty room, she slowly swung the lid further open feeling her strength, her fire gradually return to her. She knew it would take time for her strength to rebuild and prayed that they were far enough away from Wendlyn for it to return. She felt the skin on her back begin to knit together the moment she had left that infernal iron coffin and smiled to herself. Shutting the lid and locking the box once more the Queen of Terrsasen moved to the shadows of the deserted room, bloodied and broken she hid there and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of iron hung heavy in the air as Aelin crouched, swaying slightly trying to remain conscious. She took in her surroundings, the grotesque iron coffin in the middle of the room, one door, no windows and dozens of boxes containing who knows what. Feeling a gentle sway underneath her feet that had nothing to do with her pounding head, Aelin realised that she was on a boat. Away from that hideous coffin she had been bound and forced in to, the pleasant and familiar feeling of her magic stirred in that well deep within her. The ragged and torn skin on her back began to knit together slowly, so painfully slowly, and she tried to breathe through the pain that held her so tightly. As she sluggishly straightened herself up, Aelin began to realise the extent of the damage inflicted her on skin. Her naked torso protested against every movement she made. Gods knew she had been whipped and beaten before but this time it was different the circumstances were different, and she had never been abused by somebody as brutal as Cairn before. The scent of pleasure that emanated from him every time the whip licked her back was palpable and nauseating, the memory alone made bile rise in her throat but her stomach was so thoroughly empty she just wretched. Becoming agonisingly aware of the dryness in her mouth and throat, Aelin set about the room trying to find something, anything, to quench the now burning thirst. Quietly turning over storage boxes, she stumbled across a barrel that sloshed heavily with liquid. Opening the lid the overpowering scent of rum drifted into the air and she had to supress a gag again. Without any other options Aelin grimaced as she gulped down the hot amber liquid. After sliding the lid back on she slid down to floor and her hands through her blood matted and tangled her. She couldn’t do anything except for wait. Wait for her magic to build itself back up. Wait for Maeve to decide what she wants to do with her. Wait for Cairn to come back for her with that savage smile that promised pain and torture plastered across his cruel face. Aelin didn’t know how long she sat there, contemplating what was in store for her when this ship docked gods knew where. All she knew for sure was that when she was off this boat, when she was facing Maeve again, the fae queen would truly know what it was like to feel fire in her lungs. Maeve and anybody who followed her rule would feel her wrath. Sorrow washed over her at that moment as her mind went to Fenrys and his brother. Fenrys who clashed against the bond that tied him to that bitch. Fenrys who faught for her and tasted the freedom of her court. She would free him she thought, she would free anybody that wanted it. Hearing movement the other side of the door, Aelin’s head whipped. She quickly forced herself back into her iron prison, wincing as her still healing back touched the cold relentless metal. She held her breath as the door to room that had become her prison open and closed again. With a quiet exhale she slumped a bit feeling the bite of iron against her bare skin, but remained where she was. Her thoughts travelled to her loved ones and she wondered if they were following the plan she had set for them. She thought of the web of deceit that she had weaved for her friends, the assumptions she had let Rowan run with and felt a pang of guilt. Yet, as she well knew the best lies had hints of the truth laced in them. As if it had heard her thoughts, Aelin felt a shifting in her exposed stomach. Her hands instinctively went to the source of the movement. _Alive_ she thought to herself, _the baby is alive._


End file.
